


If You Go Down to The Baths Today...

by baldersgratetoo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Barebacking, Bath Houses, Bottom Carver Hawke, Bottom Dorian Pavus, Breathplay, Choking, Cumdump, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Felching, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multi, Needy Carver Hawke, Open Relationships, Power Bottom Carver Hawke, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Some Plot, Subdrop, Top Cullen Rutherford, Top Dorian Pavus, Urination, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baldersgratetoo/pseuds/baldersgratetoo
Summary: Dorian talks Cullen into a trip to the bathhouse while they're away from Skyhold.





	1. Promising Start

**Author's Note:**

> I try to write plot driven stories and get stuck, so I write some pwp porn as a distraction. Turns out it has a plot, somewhat (I did research). 5K in and I haven't even gotten to the bit that made me think, 'ooh that's hot!' So, it can stand on its own but expect at least one more chapter. I'll add new tags for any additions as they appear and I'll try not to let the plot get in the way of the porn. Too much.

‘I can’t believe you talked me into this,’ Cullen whined, scowling at the material in his hand like it was some breed of deadly snake he would have to wrestle into submission. ‘You said I’d have a towel,’ he ground out as a follow-up.

‘That is a towel, _Amatus_ ,’ Dorian replied, a wry smirk playing on his face as he continued to release the straps of his tunic, thoughts mostly stuck on Cullen wrestling in just the peshtemal; he was finding it incredibly difficult to imagine such a scenario in which it could stay on, but oh how he was trying, again and again.

Cullen held the material with a corner pinched between the forefinger and thumb of each hand and allowed the length to drop. He stood staring at Dorian, an eyebrow raised and jaw clenched. Once his other eyebrow had slowly worked its way up to join the first, and he realised Dorian didn’t seem to be shamed into explaining himself Cullen expelled an uncharacteristically high pitched and indignant, ‘really?’

Never let it be said Dorian wasn’t capable of creating his own amusements, often by winding the usually straight-laced Cullen up to his snapping point. Discretion being the better part of valour, he managed to contain his mirth behind tightly pinched lips and a moments composure.

‘I said we would have towels, I didn’t say how large they would be,’ Dorian managed to get out without laughing at the scar split pout aimed at the tiled floor, ‘now are you going to disrobe? As I’m nearly there and I swear after all the trouble I’ve gone to arranging this I will go in there without you!’

‘Sorry,’ Cullen mumbled, ‘it’s just...,’ he paused, fingering the thin cotton, ‘yours will probably fit, mine, mine might not cover, well, everything.’

Dorian was torn between laughing at the man for not grasping the point and banging his head against the door of the lockbox behind him. It was true though that his towel would sit low on his slender hips, wrap right around, and split at the thigh when he positioned himself deliberately to obtain the effect; a master of seduction at work.

For Cullen though, he would either have to wear it around his waist, which would almost certainly be too high for his more than ample manhood to be covered, or around his hips. His fuller hips, his frankly divine and enormous fuzzy peach of a backside, and then over his thickly muscled thighs. It would only just tie, the gap in the cloth opening wider to reveal nearly all of one leg. It would be positively obscene; he’d probably draw less attention if he didn’t bother.

A pointed cough drew Dorian back to reality and Cullen it seemed had followed his thoughts precisely, for he was leaning against the closed door to his lockbox, arms crossed over his chest, left leg hiked behind the right slowly running up and down the calf. He was wearing nothing but the key chain around his neck, the peshtemal thrown over his shoulder. Except for the shit-eating grin of course. The man may play the stuttering, blushing virgin, chantry boy in public to maintain his charming persona, but Dorian was reasonably sure at least a portion of the endless string of meetings in that drafty tower consisted of the Commander imparting his hedonistic wisdom to lust demons looking for an edge.

Dorian gulped, audibly, prompting a chuckle from Cullen, which served to return the mage’s natural indignation. ‘ _Vishante kaffas_ , how in the abyss do you take that metal monstrosity off so quickly and quietly,’ he yelled, not really questioning as he knew a sensible answer wouldn’t be forthcoming, he did get another laugh though.

He turned, feeling his face start to flush, to finish stripping his tunic and breeches, before angrily folding and stowing them away. Only Cullen could make him feel embarrassed. The truth was he was jealous of his position as the undisputed lord of seduction, and envious of Cullen’s seemingly uncanny ability to attract absolutely anyone he wanted without meaning to or worse even noticing that he had. As he slammed the box’s door closed, Cullen’s arms wrapped around him and he was pulled flush against his warm, lightly furred chest.

Cullen’s skin was fire against his back, the man always ran hot, and the weighty appendage between his legs rested in the crevice of Dorian’s cheeks. Feather light kisses were pressed to his shoulder, more trailed up his neck, and he moaned softly as a final light peck fell behind his ear. A whisper sounding in his ear made him shudder as his skin rose in bumps, his nipples pebbled before a thumb swept over one, ‘hush, love, I’m only teasing, as you do with me. Frequently.’

Dorian cleared his throat to grab the hand the Cullen was straying lower on his belly, letting the other one continue to swipe over his nipple, ‘yes, we should go inside, _Amatus_.’

‘Mmm,’ Cullen replied, still nuzzling behind Dorian’s ear, though he released the lower hand from where it was still gripped, to reach out and lock the box. Instead of it being put over his neck as he had expected, he was spun around to face Cullen wearing both their keys and another teasing smile. He bent to pick Dorian’s towel from the bench and drew it around his hips, fastened to show the slightest hint of crack at the back, the seam perfectly positioned over the outside front of his left thigh.

‘Perfect,’ Cullen murmured before cupping Dorian’s cheek and leaning in for a wonderfully sweet kiss that went on until the buffoon started to vibrate with repressed laughter.

Dorian allowed his head to fall back from the kiss against the wood, letting out a dramatic and incredibly put upon sigh. ‘You are mean,’ he whined, before looking down to the source of Cullen’s amusement, ‘and very lowbrow, dear.’

A bark of laughter made its way from Cullen’s mouth, and he said still chuckling, ‘if that happens to you, mine definitely wasn’t going to fit, come on, let’s go in. You can have your key and clothes back if I get what I was promised, other than a towel, we’ve established that fell well below expectations. Or maybe not.’

As Cullen walked away to the door, Dorian looked down to see the material straining where it was tied, and the corner folded up, exposing his hard cock to the world. He didn’t have long to regret his decisions, pulled along by his hand in Cullen’s grip, ‘and what if you don’t get what you were promised?’ he shot back smugly.

‘Then Kirkwall will be treated to you making your way back to Hightown with you wearing nothing but your “towel”. Hawke will find it hilarious, I’m sure,’ Cullen said matter of factly, shrugging his shoulders, but not bothering to look back at Dorian’s reaction.

As Dorian spluttered for in the search for suitable repartee, he was sure he saw the broad shoulders ahead shaking and let out a long-suffering sigh of one who had finally admitted the battle was lost, ‘ _kevesh_.’

 

* * *

 

The air was hot, heavy and humid, and the hint of oil and spices drifting from further within the building promised pleasant diversions ahead. Only a few yards down the main corridor and a bead of sweat was rolling down the nape of Cullen’s reddening neck and down between his shoulder blades. The man had a self-confessed hatred of heat, particularly the closed in cloying kind, he would sweat profusely if the temperature rose much beyond the level at which Dorian started to shiver. What Dorian loved most of all though was the colour his skin took on. The pale skin beginning to pinken around the level of his navel and slowly rise to a deep blush in his shoulders and face. When overheated, the most innocent of exertions would make Cullen look utterly debauched.

Today, Dorian intended for Cullen to be doing nothing which could even generously be labelled as innocent but most definitely exerting. As they reached the end of the corridor, his guide stopped before the thin curtain blocking the view of the room beyond the ornately carved frame, the first hint of opulence. Had Dorian not received a very reliable referral, he would have run scarpering at the sight of the surly fishwife at the entrance, or the utilitarian dressing room from which they had just departed.

He walked into the back of Cullen, so preoccupied in his assessment of the columns and finely carved architrave that he had failed to notice his companion’s abrupt stop. Cullen turned his head slightly, and Dorian could see he was chewing on the scar on his upper lip, amber eyes wide. When he was in an awkward situation, socially uncomfortable, he would lift his arm and rub the back of his neck, everyone knew what it meant and had good fun ribbing him if they caught it. When he was really nervous, scared, he would subtly bite at the reminder of what a mistake could cost, and the fear was evident in those wide eyes to anyone who knew how to look.

Dorian still had trouble separating the bravado from confidence pure and undisputed. On the battlefield, leading his men against even the deadliest of foes there was never any doubt, but when he was facing off against a mage one on one, or his emotional health rather than physical was at stake, it was far less obvious, but for that small tell. Sometimes the man needed to be reminded there was a way out, sometimes knowing he could choose that way out was enough to push him forward. ‘ _Amatus_ ,’ Dorian intoned softly, ensuring anyone who might be close to the curtains’ other side would not overhear, ‘Garrett has supplied us with a wonderfully large and soft bed, a roaring fireplace, and I have procured some lovely scented oil from a wonderfully eccentric Rivaini merchant. I brought you here as I had envisaged you enjoying yourself and relaxing, not as some trial of endurance. You know this as I never tire of telling it to you, but I do not need anyone else, I would be content to spend the rest of my days in no one else’s company but yours, Cullen.’

As much as he hoped for continued adventures with a wide selection of men, either alone or together, he did mean it, and the resultant grin aimed in his direction reminded him of exactly why. No matter where he went, or who he did it with, he didn’t think it was possible for anyone else to look at him with such adoration. More than once he had nearly been drawn into a public spectacle on the back of it, only his fear of swift reprisals from their dreadfully frightening ambassador, and more importantly, embarrassing the other man beyond what could be considered playful stayed him.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said, ‘for the offer, but you are right. You brought me here to enjoy myself, it’s merely the fear of the unknown I think. You have done this before, yes?’

‘Yes, Cullen, of course, I have,’ he said haughtily, ‘I thought it was well known throughout the inquisition that I was a whore!’

‘Not a very good one,’ Cullen snickered, causing Dorian’s mouth to drop and eyebrow to raise in bafflement. ‘Oh, don’t misunderstand, Amatus,’ he drew out, using the mage’s own endearments against him and making him shiver at the tone, ‘you are preternaturally skilled in the deviant arts, but if you were a whore, you would have starved long ago. Not once have I seen you collect payment.’

He kissed the pout from Dorian’s lips and once again led the charge, lifting aside the curtain and pulling him through. Two battles in the space of a few minutes. Dorian was losing his touch.

 

* * *

 

Tevinter’s _balineorum_ were nothing like this. The first type was seedy little hides more often than not driven by an _incaensor’s_ magic heating pebbles as a showpiece, probably the only magic they were ever allowed to perform; else by fire. The smoke usually managing to mix in with the steam making for an unpleasant dizzy sensation and usually, Dorian suspected, the cause of severely strengthened hangovers. Such a _balineum_ was often attached to a brothel, the kind that was run on the backs’ of slaves. He’d only been to two. The first time so drunk he couldn’t remember most of the experience, the second time, so sick at what he might have done the on the previous occasion when he realised what the place really was.

The other variation where the upper classes retreat; opulent palaces over hot springs dedicated to playing out Tevinter’s political machinations in towels while dripping with oils rather than in overpriced robes traditional in other settings. They were one of the few places Dorian could go to find pleasure in someone elsewhere it was considered, to an extent, socially acceptable. For _magistri_ and _alti_ , the thrill appeared to be in the cloak and dagger antics, rather than the sex itself. Perversely, as Dorian didn’t particularly care who knew who he was fucking, it actually made him more popular, a more significant challenge to hide the assignation when your bedfellow wasn’t as intent as you on keeping it a dirty little secret.

While Dorian considered himself the more worldly of the two, it was he nervously looking on wondering if he’d bitten off more than he could chew while Cullen seemed to be salivating like one of his damned Fereldan dogs which had just been loosed in a butchers yard. Having never once admitted out loud that he had bitten off more than he could chew, he wasn’t about to start now. ‘I may have underestimated the differences between Tevinter and you barbaric southerners. While I can admit I’ve never been anywhere quite like this, I intend to enjoy it as much as possible while I ruminate over never knowing such a wonderfully filthy place existed,’ he pushed Cullen forward to the showers, that at least seemed to be the same order of things as in Tevinter.

As they had passed through the curtain and entered the remarkably large hall beyond, they were greeted by an elf dressed in a towel like theirs and nothing more, only a deep burgundy where theirs were white with blue accents, more extensive too and definitively covering everything of note. He bowed and gestured in the direction of the shower area, the only open space, as for as Dorian could tell, where there were no bodies coupled together; the steam prevented a view all the way to the back of the room, it seemed to get heavier past the pools at the centre.

Cullen reached the showers first, and utilitarian as always wasted no time in sticking his head under the steam. Dorian took time to marvel, metal poles rose from the ground, half a foot across and at least eight high. Around the top a large disc at least two strides wide, a perfect wall of water falling from the circles edges, broken only where it met the broad shoulders of Cullen, who was now leaning forward with his head against the pole at the centre, moaning in a way that shot straight to below Dorian’s ill-fitting towel. Their elf helper had evidently noticed if the smirk was anything to go by. Backing into the flow of water and letting his own moan slip out unbidden, he found it was just shy of too hot and the volume of water instantly released tension in his shoulders he didn’t realise he was carrying.

Not breaking eye contact with the elf, he said, ‘this is definitely not like I remember from Tevinter.’ He noticed Cullen tense slightly; obviously, he’d noticed the same thing, and also the elf’s smirk, while staying in place became much more rigid, ‘they were either political death traps or else manned by slaves. I despised both,’ he spat, carefully watching for a reaction.

The elf appeared to have understood his meaning, and to Dorian’s relief allowed the smile to relax again, letting him follow, nervous twitching and darting eyes would have been concerning. ‘Your concern is appreciated, but neither necessary nor warranted.’ He waved to the room, drawing attention to the other elven attendants in red milling about, ‘we’re here willingly. Paid well. As you can see there is not normally a lack of willing flesh amongst our clientele, but if anyone is looking for something we are uniquely positioned to provide, well, we can earn a tidy commission on referrals to the Rose, Jethann appreciates the selective approach. We’re explicitly forbidden from joining in while working.’

As Cullen turned in the water to face their host, the elf’s smirk turned even dirtier, ‘for you two, I’m certain we could come to a more direct arrangement,’ he licked his lips, ‘once I’m no longer in your service of course.’ He was looking down, and towards Cullen, it seemed the man’s concerns about performing in such an environment were less than valid. ‘Freely, of course, I can’t imagine you two ever need to pay,’ the elf finished with a purr.

When they stepped out from under the water, he gestured them to the next area. The entire room was tiled in white marble, smooth, but like the wooden slatted pathways crisscrossing the place, remarkably not slippy. Cullen leaned in to whisper, ‘I think he learned the word whore from the same book you did,’ causing Dorian to snort, he looked far too pleased with himself for that one.

There were a few massage areas set up at the front end of the room and what struck Dorian is strange was that each had only one table. He had expected these places usually looked to be efficient, so when Cullen was laid down, he had thought another masseur would whisk him away to another table. Apparently used to putting first-timers, as Dorian was loath to admit he really was, at ease, their elven attendant said, ‘it’s to encourage you to find other ways to occupy yourself while you wait,’ and with another of what appeared to be his trademark lascivious smirks, ‘idle hands, and all that.’

Pouring what appeared to be a costly oil into a mixing bowl, he asked Cullen what scents he wanted, ‘cinnamon, clove, lemon, lavender,’ Dorian replied unthinking, before blushing slightly at the raised eyebrow from the elf. ‘I should probably have something to call you by if I’m to continue making these social faux pas,’ he said jokingly in an attempt to cover his discomfort at having publicly declared a choice on Cullen’s behalf without even thinking about it.

Cullen, as usual, was playing by a completely different rulebook to the rest of Thedas, ‘he likes it when I smell like him,’ he mumbled docilely into the pillow his head was resting on, ‘I like what he does to me when I do.’ He followed that by repositioning himself slightly, enough to flex the muscles in his back and cause the swell of his arse to wobble enticingly.

The elf, apparently, was not immune to everything for he gulped before regaining his composure, ‘Rehan, my name. Will you have the same scents then?’ he said before turning back to the well-stocked shelves behind him, picking out the requested ingredients one by one to add them to the base oil.

Dorian’s composure returned more slowly, ‘Dorian,’ he blurted, ‘my name is,’ at the shaking shoulders and wobbling rear on the table his pride forced him to pay proper attention, ‘and this great lummox is Cullen. Also, yes, I will take the same. I do like it when he has my scent. Though quite why I like him at all is beyond me at the moment.’

Doubling up his mixture before pouring the fist of it in a line down Cullen’s back, Rehan said, ‘I think he might make you regret laughing at him later.’

The moan loud enough to draw interest from about the room, and the deep rumble of, ‘Maker, I hope so,’ dropped Dorian’s jaw once again, and once again he realised the lummox had been right about his towel. It got to the elf to at least, from his perch above Cullen’s behind, he had positioned himself to continue drawing quieter but constant moans while keeping the very apparent bulge in his wrap from poking into unprofessional places. ‘I hope that’s for me,’ Cullen said drawing the mage’s eyes down to the blonde who had raised his head and was looking dead at the weeping cock, painfully hard, and only inches away from a warm wet mouth. He looked up to see the elf give another dirty grin and stepped forward to sink into Cullen’s talented heat, at the same time giving up on his peshtemal entirely, releasing the knot at letting it fall to the floor. Another battle down.

If Cullen hadn’t already done enough to advertise their presence the work he was doing to Dorian was surely going to attract interest. His first spend of the day promised to be loud and violent. Cullen’s tongue seeking its way immediately underneath the skin to lap at the built-up juices and tease the underside of his head. Being inside Cullen always felt like being consumed by a raging wild fire, only the flames pricking at his skin sent waves of pleasure running through his nerves rather than pain.

Eyes closed and head back, he’d been unaware of anything save for his own pleasure, three quick taps to his hip brought him instantly back to Thedas. Cullen’s hand was on Dorian’s left him, thumb stroking over the bone. Dorian’s own right hand had moved to the back of Cullen’s head to steady himself, his pubic bone pushed into the man’s nose, squashing it flat, he trembled each time the throat swallowed and squeezed around his length. For a man whose gag reflex made him prone to chocking on his own spit, it was a paradoxically wonderous natural talent. Three taps meant you’re doing something that is eventually going to be a problem, and I may let it go far enough you have the responsibility of making sure getting you off doesn’t kill me.

He looked up to Rehan who was still working on Cullen’s back, now near the base, skirting the mounds of his glutes. ‘You’ve not moved for a minute at least,’ he said raspy, then as though it was unbelievable, ‘he hasn’t tensed at all if anything he’s gotten more relaxed. And you’ve drawn an audience.’

Cullen could last three minutes easily if he’d taken a good breath, probably two if not, and Dorian could make him cum and pass out like this; he had. Dorian could hear the slick sounds of men stroking behind him but was only focused on the sensation around his cock until he felt the closeness of another body behind him. ‘If you’re having bother with the pumping lad, I can assist with that from behind,’ a gruff voice sounded in his ear. In truth, Dorian was perfectly content controlling the life breath of his _Amatus_ , but he could do that anytime, and they were here for a reason.

‘I’m a delicate instrument,’ Dorian said haughtily, ‘I’m not sure if you’re qualified to play me.’

A large barrel chest covered in thick hair pressed against his back making him shiver and he felt the tickle of the man’s beard as he leant in to growl, ‘get a big stick, stretch the skin tight, and pound it hard.’ As he finished, he pressed the swell of his thick belly into Dorian’s back and slipped what could definitely be described as an incredibly big stick between his cheeks.

As the pressure pushed Dorian impossibly deeper into Cullen’s mouth, the slowly suffocating man upped his rate of swallowing and reached forward to grab a cheek in each hand and pull them wide apart, exposing Dorian’s hole. A massive bear paw attached to a thickly corded forearm covered in coarse black hair poked out from behind him palm up. It took Rehan depositing the oil jug in the outstretched palm for Dorian to cotton on.

Think fingers began to probe, occasionally joined by Cullen’s familiar digits, slicked by oil, then something much bigger. He was stretched wider until his muscle hit its limit and gave up its fight, allowing the intruder to slide smoothly in, and drawing out a long moan of, ‘ _fasta vass_.’ Dorian took a minute to catch his breath before goading his new best friend, ‘well then? I was promised a pounding, get to it.’

The first slow slide out left him keening and empty, but it was immediately followed by an unforgiving thrust deep inside, slipping him deeper still into Cullen’s throat causing him to start choking. Before Dorian had the chance to become worried the slide out came, fast and rough this time, pulling him back allowing Cullen to gulp in a breath and sputter and cough before they were both filled again. Again and again, the bear pounding into Dorian’s now well-stretched hole had him pushing the throat he was buried in close to its limit. In and out, the thick head jabbing his prostate, the hot tight throat swallowing around him as he went deep and tongue swirling around his head as he was pulled back. He could feel the foaming slobber slowly trickle down his tightening balls to soak the insides of his thighs, reaching his calves by the time he knew he was close to release.

A few more hard thrusts aimed at just the right spot tipped Dorian over the edge, a slew of broken and filthy tevene spilling from his lips as he spilt into Cullen’s greedy gullet. His hole spasming ripped the bear’s orgasm from the man at the same moment, a bestial roar vibrating through his chest. After a moment to catch his breath, he slapped Dorian’s arse hard, ‘played you good, eh? Vint cunt is always a treat.’

Dorian snorted in response, while undeniably true, he thought it too uncouth to respond to. The grin he wore told the elf still atop the man suckling his spent cock just how much he appreciated a good fuck from a ruffian, however. He wasn’t particularly inclined to remove said ruffian until he was ready, but his body required further release. Stroking Cullen’s cheek was rewarded with a small nod, and the sucking and nibbling were replaced by tightly sealed lips. No one else seemed to notice as he released his stream, but Rehan watched in fascination as Cullen’s throat began working again, swallowing down the bitter, salty liquid each time his cheeks began to bulge.

His backside was empty of its newest visitor by the time he’d finished pissing, and when he turned around, the man had gone; their other admirers scattered back to their previous occupations he presumed. Kneeling down to check on Cullen, he found bloodshot and moist eyes, pupils which were wholly blown, and a huge goofy grin to greet him, ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself, _Amatus_ , that was just the beginning,’ he said softly while stroking the soft blonde sweat drenched curls.

‘I can’t wait, love,’ Cullen croaked out, before sighing and nodding off. When he awoke again, he was being lowered by Dorian and the elf into one of the hot bubbling pools in the rooms centre. Dorian joined him, supporting his weight as they were washed down by Rehan and allowed to rest. Today was going to be better than Dorian had planned. The third battle he was calling a draw.


	2. Unexpected Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair explore the baths further, finding a familiar face in an unexpected position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst everything in here is filled with enthusiastic involvement, there is a lack of explicit consent, while I didn't consider this worthy of a non-con warning, or even tagging as dub-con, others may disagree especially give the lack of proper BDSM etiquette. If this is a particular issue for you proceed with caution.
> 
> This is going to be a longer than anticipated romp through the Kirkwall bathhouse and our dynamic duo, and there are now going to be at least two more chapters after this one, I hope they're worth it! They may be slower to post.

After a half hour or so soaking in the wonderfully soothing hot pool, Dorian decided to extricate himself from Cullen’s octopus grip and climb out. He desired for more pleasures of the flesh, and his chances would likely diminish the more he resembled a pink hairless nug. His jostling awoke Cullen, and after his glare was sufficiently ignored, he followed Dorian up the steps to receive an efficient towelling off from their elven attendant, Rehan.

The elf must have caught the moment of indecision on Dorian’s face for he was quick to offer his advice, ‘if you just wish to be pampered and relax I can see to that. Most of today’s visitors are regulars, and I expect they’d be happy for an invitation to a private alcove if one takes your fancy.’

Dorian scanned the room again. He was adept at picking out exciting bedfellows, but on this occasion, it seemed a rather dull lot; at least until he noticed the commotion near the back of the room. One of the roomier alcoves, which he did not have a clear view into, seemed to have men going in and out, those going out were tending to shower and leave for the most part. Bodies were hanging around its entrance enthralled by the view of something inside.

Raising an eyebrow to Rehan and tilting his head in the alcove’s direction in question he was rewarded with that particular grin that spelt a more than acceptable diversion; somehow it seemed filthier each time it split across his delicate elven features. ‘That,’ the elf said lowly, ‘is one of our very regulars. He is incredibly accommodating. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him refuse to accommodate someone, likes it rough too.’

Interest piqued, Dorian looked to Cullen who just shrugged at him in the way that meant _I know you want to and if I argue you’re just going to manipulate me until you get what you want anyway_. Dorian was offended by the accusation, but as he was getting his way regardless, he really didn’t see the point verbally engaging Cullen in an argument the man probably didn’t know he was even having. If there was one thing that Dorian loved that he rarely had the chance to partake in, it was sliding into a thoroughly fucked and sloppy hole.

As they made their way over to the alcove, Dorian amused himself with thoughts of finding an even bigger plug to surreptitiously hand off to The Bull before talking Cullen into taking another ride on the said bull. A debauched and irritable Cullen being sent up to his chambers plugged up with all that cum was such a treat.

When they arrived at their destination, Rehan let them be, and they joined the watchers. An old soldier going by the scars was making use of the mouth of a man positioned on all fours atop a padded bench, just the right height for what it was presumably used for often. His other end was being jackrabbited into by a pot-bellied Antivan with gloriously tanned skin that Dorian was ever so slightly envious of; no finesse but great enthusiasm. The soldier finished first, filling the man’s mouth and then moving to leave. He threw a smirk to the pair as he left and a knowing wink and, ‘Commander,’ directly at Cullen. To Dorian’s amazement, the man barely blushed when he mumbled out what might have been the soldier’s name or some obscure Ferelden curse.

Antivan curses filled the air and drew Dorian’s attention back to the spectacle as the bucking man came to an intense and rapturous climax. He doubled over and for a moment seemed to Dorian to have passed out, but shortly after righted himself and pulled out. While his belly was impressive, what swung between his legs had seemingly been borrowed from a donkey. So fascinated with it was Dorian that he took a moment to realise the open to all takers regular had no takers save for Cullen who was already running his hand along the man’s back as he made his way slowly to the head end. The kneeling man’s toes curled at the contact.

The vision before him was the most stunning arse he had ever seen. Except Cullen’s of course. Dark hair to Cullen’s dirty blonde, plumper but thicker with muscle, if such a thing were even possible. If only Dorian could manage to get a few pounds on the man, make those taught muscles have a bit more jiggle, not that there was anything wrong with him as he was, but even Cullen lamented thicker padding after a long ride. As Dorian moved closer, he could see his target was still gaping from all that had gone before, and it was a beautiful sight; he was hard as silverite as he rubbed his cock over the inviting cavern.

As Cullen tilted the mans head up to look into his eyes before he choked him, Dorian thrust in deep to the root, turning the shocked expression of, ‘Cullen!’ that was forced from Carver’s lips, into a low wanton moan that had Cullen fighting not to cum untouched into his former charge’s eyes.

‘Carver?’ Cullen exclaimed, evidently shocked at finding the younger man in such circumstances.

Dorian apparently was equally as shocked, though not enough to cease the dynamic movement of his hips from repeatedly slapping against the man’s behind, for the name prompted his head to shoot up as he spluttered a surprised, ‘Hawke? As in Gar…’

‘Do not say his name while you are fucking me!’ Carver growled, pushing back into Dorian’s next thrust, provoking a moan from both of them and a whimper from Cullen. On the next rock forward he let out a stream of warm breath over the head of the cock inches from his face, when it twitched in response Carver chuckled, ‘well, Sir?’ As Cullen worked his jaw wordlessly, he then asked teasingly, ‘going to fill me up and use me like you know I’ve always wanted you to, or are you just going to stand there drooling?’ He craned his head forward at that to lick away the dribble of precum slowly falling from Cullen’s slit.

Cullen grabbed Carver by the hair his hand tightly fisted in the black curls, and pulled his head up and back, forcing him to look up and arch his back further, making Dorian’s slide deeper and angled into his prostate on every thrust. ‘You were always a whiny bitch, weren’t you? Begging me to let you join the order, begging me to train you, now begging me for my cock so you can be filled at both ends,’ Cullen sneered out.

The spectacle at the other end of the body Dorian was fucking into was only speeding his way to filling him with his cum. Rarely did he get to see this side of Cullen and it was always a treat. The man was toying with his prey, rubbing his weeping cock over Carver’s lips, matting down his beard with its leaking juices, all the while holding the man’s head back whenever he tried to take the organ into his eager mouth. On a particularly pitiful whine followed by a hard yank to his hair, Carver finally gave in to what his body needed, ‘please, Sir, let me taste you, use my mouth,’ he begged, ‘please!’

Cullen obliged, slipping his length into the heat of Carver’s desperately eager mouth. He pulled on his handful of hair again to stop the slow slide, still resting on the man’s tongue, not deep enough it appeared to Dorian, at least from his admittedly unclear vantage point, to have reached his throat. The tug to his hair caused Carver to let out a moan around his mouthful, deep and mixed with pain and pleasure, his hole fluttering around Dorian magnificently. So transfixed was he on the sensation, it took him a moment to realise he was being addressed, ‘hmm?’ he asked, peering up to see the filthiest grin Cullen had ever produced. It took all his will not to cum in that instant.

‘Having fun, love?’ Cullen asked, amused, ‘you seem to be a little distracted?’

‘Not at all, _Amatus_ ,’ he replied. ‘I’m completely in contro…oooh,’ he cut off on a moan as Cullen pulled at Carver’s hair again causing the fluttering surrounding his cock to begin again, finishing the moment he had sufficiently regained his composure, ’of my faculties, thank you very much.’

‘I’m sure,’ was the sarcastic reply, followed by an order, ’stop! now!’ Dorian complied, if only, as he told himself, to see where this was going. He didn’t believe himself. It was the same voice the Lion used on the battlefield, and it made Dorian shiver in anticipation. ‘Your job is to fuck him deeper onto my prick every time I pull him down. Don’t worry if he chokes on me, he’s a fast learner, will bitch about it for days after though,’ Cullen said, followed by a sharp yelp, ‘fuck!’ Before Dorian could question, Cullen made a more violent tug at his charge and grit out, ’no teeth! Or I’ll make you regret it.’ Dorian would have laughed, were it not for the fact he was contemplating whether he would be incredibly impressed or terribly put out were he to reach his end from someone else having their hair pulled.

Cullen began an unforgiving screwing of the throat surrounding him and an equally relentless diatribe of filth towards the man. It took Dorian a couple of repetitions to catch on, but soon enough he was meeting each violent tug Cullen made with a deep thrust of his own to force Carver that little bit further onto the man choking him. His callous attitude towards choking the man had not been in jest either it seemed, for, from the first time Cullen pulled the man onto himself, his cock was buried to the root in Carver’s throat, ignoring the coughs and retching, and likely a drooling mess. Back and forth the man’s head was pulled, the arduousness of the ordeal made more by Dorian pushing him that much deeper onto his mouthful each time his hips slammed into Carver’s sumptuous arse with a rhythmic percussion.

It seemed that the harder Cullen pulled at the hair, choked him, and the more severe the debasement and humiliation his words engendered in Carver, the louder his moans came, interspersed with coughing, and the harder he would seemingly involuntarily convulse around Dorian’s length. The man was covered in a sheen of sweat and Dorian was having to grip harder to the skin of his hips, adding to the red marks already left by the no doubt many men who had taken this position today; Dorian suspected however his grip was going to leave bruises he would be remembered by for days to come.

He was close from the intensity of the act, the squeezing around him, this filthy and dominant Cullen before him, but it was what happened next that tipped him over the edge. ‘I don’t think you deserve to swallow down my seed,’ Cullen growled out, before tugging Carver’s head off of his length and back up to look into his pleading eyes. He began to strip his cock hard and fast over the man’s ruddy, and slime covered face.

Carver wailed out a needy, ‘please,’ before his body began shaking with sobs, ‘I need it.’ He got it, though not how he seemed to want it. Seconds later, Cullen went off with a roar, spilling over Carver’s face. Some flew high enough to land on his back, the rest painted his hair, dripped down his face, and coated his beard. What made Dorian cum hard enough to nearly black out, filling up Carver with another load to replace what had been worked up to a froth and squeezed out around his, was feeling Carver’s orgasm as he came hard and untouched from Cullen’s use of him.

When Dorian regained his composure, he realised he had doubled over Carver’s back and was licking and sucking at the skin, tasting the sweat and the drops of his lover’s seed which had landed there.

Cullen had wandered off to the side of the room, where another of those fascinating shower contraptions stood, rinsing away his exertions. Dorian it seemed was left to deal with the shaking and exhausted lump beneath him. Had it been anyone else he would have been content to wander off and leave them, but had it been anyone else, he suspected, Cullen would never have reached such a level of viciousness which was so unlike him. That the man just left afterwards was also troubling. Cullen was facing away from them, head bowed against the shower pole, the water breaking over his back as he had stood the first time, his shoulders shaking. From this distance, Dorian couldn’t tell if his shoulders were shaking from sobbing, laughing, or vomiting, but Rehan stood near Cullen and gave a small nod at Dorian’s questioning gaze. To more immediate problems them.

Straightening up, the mage could feel a glorious ache in the muscles of his legs, and was pleased to see his finger marks of Carver’s hips had already begun to bruise. He feathered his fingers over them, eliciting a hiss from their owner. Smirking, he began to pull out from the ring of muscle still feebly attempting to squeeze on. The whine his withdrawal prompted was positively piteous. Dorian was coated in a foamy cover of churned up cum from his rough fucking of the already well-used cunt, and as his head popped out, a tricked of white liquid followed, escaping from the winking hole, futilely trying to close itself. Dorian let out a gasp, and his prick gave a valiant twitch at the needy moan Carver released when he fingered the dripping liquid back into the puffy red gape, running his thumb over the matted black hair and hot swollen flesh as his first two fingers scissored inside, grazing the bump that had the body sobbing and shaking again.

Dorian extricated his hand and walked around to the head end. As his stroked through the soaked curls, matting them down with the remains of Cullen’s spend, Carver tipped his head up, and Dorian was once again shocked at how thoroughly debauched the man was, and how his own dick still thought itself capable of action enough to give another twitch. Carver’s eyes were red from tears which were again falling, and Dorian suspected they were both from the heavy beating his throat took as well as a heightened emotional state. His lips were swollen and all of his face covered in drying spittle and mucus. The strings of cum still visible, standing out starkly in his thick black beard. He registered the movement, slight as it was, at Dorian’s groin, and moved feebly towards it.

Holding the man back required little effort physically, though the look of complete dejection on his face tugged at Dorian’s heartstrings. ‘You do understand where it has just been, yes?’ he asked.

It seemed to take a while for Carver to register the question, but their eyes met, and he made a small nod before emitting a croaked, ‘please?’ At that, Dorian fed his flaccid cock into the waiting mouth. At first, it was just a slow suckle, but the longer it went on, the more enthusiastic it became, tongue searching out every part, eager not to miss any of the taste in which it was coated. Dorian himself couldn’t say he quite understood the desire, he considered it a noble sacrifice of a gift whenever he would do the same for Cullen when the blonde had fucked him, Cullen, who would never ask but always appreciate. He knew other people loved it though; Cullen had fallen asleep more than once head in Dorian’s lap, tasting their combined essence.

As the sensation fell back to a soft contented suckle, Dorian knew he wasn’t going to be ready for a while. His thoughts though fell back to the dribble of cum from Carver, and while he didn’t enjoy taking a soiled cock into his mouth, there was something which he loved. Pulling out of Carver’s mouth was something of a struggle, as he did not want to release his treat, but he persevered and had to smile when he knelt to be level with the scowling pout that awaited him. New tears had stopped, and the man seemed a little calmer.

‘I suspect you have taken all you can for today, or at least for a little while, yes?’ Dorian asked softly. He was firm in his opinion that Carver shouldn’t be left here to be taken advantage of in this state, but it wasn’t his place to decide for him. In case the man was tempted to disagree, Dorian was planning using a carrot on this Fereldan ass.

As it happened, the response wasn’t as belligerent as he feared, though slightly worrying no less. ‘I think so,’ Carver croaked out before tears began again and sobs started to wrack his body, ‘the Captain hates me, doesn’t he?’

Captain? ‘Cullen?’ Dorian clarified, and at the sharp nod, he received, ‘no. No, hush, Cullen doesn’t hate you. If he did, he wouldn’t have done that to you, and he wouldn’t have run off afterwards with his tail tucked between his legs. Trust me, I know him better than he knows himself when emotions are involved. It’s my superpower.’ The man calmed and nodded, seemingly accepting of that explanation and Dorian’s calming strokes to his hair. He was going to be having some stern words with a certain ex-Templar shortly though, and that Fereldan ass deserved a stick.

‘I’m a mess,’ Carver mumbled, barely loud enough for Dorian to hear. ‘Everything is so sore, and I can feel you leaking out of me.’

Dorian flushed a little at that and a bit deeper at what he was about to suggest. ‘Not just me, I think. I was pondering your leaking situation as well, alas I have nothing with which to seal you up with, so I wonder how well suited are you to kneeling at present?’

Carver looked put out, as though he’d had the hypothetical plug waved under his nose then taken away, but his interest was piqued. ‘I think I could manage,’ he said suspiciously, ‘for a while at least, though you’d have to do the work, I don’t think I’m up to bouncing on you.’

Dorian’s eyes bugged at the thought of the man riding him, but stuck to his original plan, if not to save the other man from himself, then as his own refractory period had still not expired. ’Ah, while I appreciate that you find me so sublime a fuck you are willing to suffer through yet another, I was, in fact, thinking of having you sit on my face. I promise to have my tongue do all the work.’

Faster than Dorian would have thought possible, Carver had raised himself shakily on to all fours before pushing up to his haunches, well-used arse resting on his heels. Dorian stood to take in the slightly wobbly man, his knee clicking ominously as he rose. Carver was so much like Cullen in build, only less lean muscle, healthier and fuller. Well-muscled arms hung at his sides, leaving his body on view; if he owned any shame, it had yet to return to him in his still addled state. Soft but thick black hair matted with sweat covered generously muscled pectorals; enough fat to wobble enticingly as they twitched and surprisingly large dark nipples. The lower part of his trunk thick and strapping, but the barest hint of softness in the belly; what Cullen would be were he fully well.

As Carver had been situated on the padded bench on the short side so either end of him would be accessible to any passerby, Dorian lay down lengthways, his body flat and head nearest to the other man so he would need to travel the least distance. Once situated relatively comfortably he reached back to signal his readiness and Carver turned to swing a leg over his head, choosing to orient himself with his balls on Dorian’s forehead. Rather than kneeling as expected, the exhausted man squatted down, giving Dorian a perfect view of the still open and dripping hole. It made his mouth water, and he wasted no time in unbalancing the man and grinding the taint into his nose and mouth. His moustache was likely ruined, but as his tongue licked into that gloriously slick opening for the first time, for once, he really didn’t care.

Licking and sucking, working deeper to feast on the many loads of salty liquid, Dorian lost himself further as he sank into the depravity. If his father thought his antics in Minrathous were embarrassing, he would keel over at the way his son was debasing himself now. The thought just made him pull the slowly grinding hips tighter to him and latched on his lips to feast some more. Distantly he was aware of conversation nearby and the body above him shaking, but it wasn’t until his jaw ached and his face and chin were covered in juices, that he found of what had caused them.

Carver’s stamina gave out finally, causing him to slip back from Dorian’s face, affording him the view of Cullen expertly plundering the man’s mouth with his tongue while he worked Carver’s cock left-handed and one of his chewable looking nipples with his right. Not one to be outdone, or used as a stool, Dorian took some of Carver’s weight in his hands, elbows locked on the bench, just enough to suck a ball into his mouth and make the man shudder and moan louder into Cullen’s mouth. If there was one thing Dorian was known for over anything else it was his big mouth; stretching wide he managed to suck both in and swallow. They popped out as they tightened, and the next thing he knew cum was dribbling onto his face.

Carver was lifted off of the bench and passed into Rehan’s waiting arms, before being led off to one of the more secluded baths, then Cullen leant down to lick the mess clean from Dorian’s inverted face. After a thorough cleaning and a sweet kiss, Dorian was also helped up, and they followed on to the bath.

‘While you seem to have gotten over whatever in the abyss that was, I hope you aren’t going to make him suffer for it,’ Dorian said to Cullen while using him to support his weight, most of his prior vitriol faded by now.

‘He used to follow me around, like a yapping dog salivating over a juicy bone, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t, do anything about it. Anyone else I’d have put in their place or assigned to another officer as was best. I was weak, though. I wanted him too, so I kept him close. I never acted on it, but I think it was an abuse of my authority. Every thought I had back then, every feeling of frustration, as soon as I lifted his head and recognised the desire in those eyes, all came back to me and erupted.’

‘Literally,’ Dorian could not help but needle gleefully, ‘all over his face.’

‘Dorian! I’m serious. I can’t believe…’

‘Cullen darling, I admit I was shocked by it, but not horrified. I have seen men both deliver and desire far darker and more violent ordeals. I think you will find you gave him exactly what he needed at that moment, whether either of you realised it. Only the fact that it came from you stunned me. Be careful you do not apologise for an offence which did not occur and create a new, more damaging one.’

‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ Cullen replied once again chewing nervously at his upper lip, pulling on the scar.

Dorian sighed, ’in any case, wait until he is more coherent at least.’ He hoped Cullen would see past his own misgivings and suspected Carver would be devastated if this was taken away from him as a mistake on behalf of the one who had obviously held his affections for a long time.

They bathed for a while, long enough for Dorian’s muscles to relax again and feeling of a third wind to announce themselves. He sat in the steaming and bubbling pool, dark-haired brute snoring on his right shoulder, blonde nuzzling at his left; their hands clasped together across his lap. He smiled, small and private, but utterly genuine as Cullen murmured into his ear, ‘next time, I want to be Carver.’


End file.
